


Those Lights in the Sky

by Elvesliketrees



Series: Kink Meme Fills [3]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Flogging, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Slavery, Violence, kink meme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 00:50:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4080226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvesliketrees/pseuds/Elvesliketrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the kink meme: I'd like it if some of Emile Bonnaire's other business associates come to France to find out why their supply of slaves has suddenly stopped. When they hear rumours of who was involved in his disappearance they go after the musketeers and manage to take two of them (please, anon, let one of them be Aramis.)</p>
<p>Cue the other two trying desperately to rescue them. I am happy with gen, or any combination of relationships. I don't mind if the action takes place in the city, on a slaver's ship, or even on a plantation. </p>
<p>I am a devotee of h/c and angst (no death fics, please)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those Lights in the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the OP for this request! This bit might be a little bit longer than the other fills, but still should be relatively short! Warning for graphic depictions of slavery!

The marks were sitting in a tavern as Renault silently watched them from a corner. The man with the brown hat had imbibed at least three bottles of wine, and the dark-haired pretty one was swaying in his seat. It wouldn't be long now. Renault and his partners had heard of the four who had cut off their supply, and it had been agreed that the four ought to replenish what they had stolen. However, these two would have to do. His associates had informed him today that the Spanish were once again after them, and that Emile had squealed, the bastard. These two would have to be the penance for the four. No matter, the dark-haired one apparently convinced the handsome one that he'd had enough, and that Porthos was waiting. They approached the door of the alley, leaning on one another and smiling hugely. The handsome one mouthed a kiss on the other's neck. Renault paid, got up, and entered the alley. His workers were already there, along with their two marks. The dark-haired one was squirming in the arms of his captor, trying to shake the hand from the vise-like grip around his mouth. The handsome one was only glaring at them, too drunk to put up much of a fight but sober enough to realize that they were not friends. With a smile, Renault took the flask of tea off from his hip. He walked up to the dark-haired one first, and his mouth was forced open. The tea was poured in, and his frantic pleas were soon reduced to slurred pleas. The handsome one was next, and soon the duo were slumped in the arms of his workers, forced into the arms of sleep. With a gesture, they were carried off to their wagon, ready to embark on the day-long journey to the port. Unknown to Renault, somewhere in the city, Porthos cleaned up from his mission and anxiously awaited the return of his lovers. 

\---

Aramis groaned as his pounding head was jarred against something wooden. With a whimper, he blinked his eyes, and sincerely wished he hadn't. Shackles were fixed to his wrists and ankles, chains were bolted to the wooden wall behind him. With a frantic whimper, he tugged uselessly at the chains binding him. A presence jolted at his side, and a hand wrapped around his. The place he was chained in was incredibly dark, though Aramis' eyes were slowly adjusting. "Easy, easy, it is me, I am here," came the whispered reassurance from his side. 

"Athos, Athos, where are we?" Aramis demanded, recognizing the voice instantly. 

"On board the slave ship of one of Bonnaire's partners," Athos whispered. Aramis' heart jumped into his throat. They'd been careful, oh so careful! The mission was two weeks ago, and they'd kept their heads down for a week before going back to normal life! Porthos even went on his first mission two days ago (or what he thought was two days ago), and they would have come home to him! Oh Porthos, poor Porthos! Though, truth be told, Aramis was glad that he was safe. With a sigh, he laid his head down on Athos' shoulder. 

"How long have we been asleep?" he asked quietly. 

"The prisoners seem to be a mix of French and Spanish, I was able to talk to the woman next to us shortly, she said they cast off two days ago," Athos replied quietly. 

"They'll be after us, you know they will," Aramis tried to comfort him.

"And the king, will he go to the Caribbean just for two Musketeers?" Athos whispered. Aramis didn't have an answer for that. 

\---

"This is an outrage!" the king thundered, "How dare they?!" Porthos smiled slightly as the Cardinal paled, and Treville straightened beside him. Captain Francis Aleman, leader of the Spanish group pursuing Bonnaire and his partners, straightened as well. 

"We pursued, and saw that your Musketeers were taken aboard the ship of one of the Bonnaire's partners, bound for the Caribbean. We were unfortunately delayed, and only were able to alert the Musketeers last night," Aleman sighed, looking genuinely sincere. 

"The Musketeers and France thank you for your quick action and assistance. What other information do you have on this organization?" Louis asked. 

"We had thought that France knew of Bonnaire, as he was seen by our men meeting the Cardinal," Aleman said in confusion. 

"Emile Bonnaire, who I ordered arrested for breakage of the treaty?" Louis demanded. 

"Y-Your Majesty," the Cardinal stuttered.

"I will hear no more, Cardinal. Your actions have caused Bonnaire to escape French justice, consider yourself lucky the Spanish caught him, along with the capture of two of my best Musketeers!" Louis snapped. 

"While I am sure that Aramis and Athos will be remembered..." the Cardinal said quickly. 

"They will not be remembered, they will be found! These ruffians have assaulted the king's guard, and they reflect the king! If we let these slavers kidnap and sell my men, then we say that France's most loyal servants mean nothing. Captain Aleman, while I commend you for coming to us, why did you not attack the ship?" he asked.

"Unfortunately, my men were back with our ship, ready to depart in pursuit to the Caribbean, and it was too heavily guarded. It is our wish to end these farms once and for all, so that we may return our people, and yours, home," Aleman said.

"It was suggested that we send a liaison in the name of France to the Caribbean with Captain Aleman, in order to see the safe return of the Musketeers and those citizens who have been taken from our borders," Treville stated. 

"And the man?" Louis asked. 

"I would recommend Porthos du Vallon, who was already expressed his wish to go and retrieve his friends from the farm. He is a good soldier, and Captain Aleman has already accepted the proposal, with Your Majesty's permission," Treville replied. 

"By all means go, and God be with you," Louis said with a small smile, "Bring back our people, and Cardinal, I would have words with you today." With that, Louis turned and exited the room. Richelieu flashed them a glare as he swished out of the room. They met d'Artagnan outside the palace with the horses. 

"I'll look after your affairs here, just see to Aramis and Athos," he said quietly, "I'll make sure that no one loses their apartments." With a nod, Porthos clasped the boy's shoulder and mounted his prepared horse. Captain Aleman and he were to go to the ship immediately. With a wave of his arm, he and Aleman were off in a cloud of dust. When night fell, they prepared to cast off at dawn. 

"Have no fear," Captain Aleman said that night as Porthos gazed over the balustrade, "We shall find your friends."

\---

The voyage was worse than Athos could have imagined. They were continuously chained, only let up to blink in the sun every once in a great while. The shackles chafed at his wrists and bled, and both he and Aramis were ridden with dirt and disease. Rats scurried back and forth in the hold, and sickness was rampant. Many a time had Aramis slept on his shoulder as he sweated with fever, with no one to help or care, and Athos was sure that Aramis returned the favor. The slavers could have cared less if they lived or died, not that that was a surprise. They were fed and watered inconsistently, and any nourishment was scarfed or swallowed down before they could really think, only to be vomited back up again more times than not. The rocking of the ship was a nuisance rather than a comfort, only roiling their stomachs. Storms were a blessing, as the water would sometimes spill into the hold and clean the vomit and other substances which littered the floor. Aramis and he were ridden with fleas, he could feel them crawling around in his boots, shirt, and trousers. His doublet and hat had disappeared when they were captured. Aramis taught him Spanish to pass the time, and he soon found himself communicating with the other prisoners as easily as Aramis did. Aramis helped where he could, yelling out instructions when someone took sick. It was not enough. Someone said that the voyage to the Caribbean lasted two months, and Athos believed them. How they survived those months, when half of their fellow prisoners did not, Athos would never know. When they were finally dragged up to huddle on the deck, Aramis clung to his shirt while Athos flung his arms around him, finally glad to be rid of the chains. They were herded off the boat, only to find themselves on a small island. A dock stretched to the sea, and there was a large house at the end. Buildings were scattered around it, and fields stretched as far as the eye could see. Supplies, enough for months, were unloaded and they were taken around the house. There, the men stated that they would be prepared. Aramis and he were thrust towards an older woman with a stern face, and Athos saw that each of the workers were taking two of the slaves. Her face softened as she beheld two of them, and she gestured them over. To their shame, they were instantly stripped of their clothing and doused again and again with buckets of water. When they were clean and shivering, she handed them worn clothes, simple shirt and trousers, though no boots. At their curious looks, she sighed. 

"You're both strong and will be in the fields, can't have you runnin' off," she stated with a hint of resignation. Athos only nodded and got himself dressed. She cut their hair so short that it didn't touch their ears, and they were shaved. "For the fleas," the woman said, "You'll go to work now, but you'll get some food." They were each allowed a drink of water from a bucket and a hunk of stale bread was shoved into their hands. They were each given a knife, and were shoved towards the fields. 

"What are we doing?" Aramis asked quietly. 

"The burning is today," an older man said quietly, "We'll burn the leaves off, and then we'll cut the cane and bring it to the mill. Even with all of us, the cuttin' will take about three months," the man sighed. 

"Three months?!" Athos choked. 

"Aye, and hard work too. Just cut the cane close to the ground, bind it into small stalks, put the stalks in the bag at your back, and when the bag's full, bring it to the wagon," the man said quietly. Their legs wobbled, and the man caught Athos as he rocked sideways. 

"Still got your sea-legs, I know the feelin'. I'm Henri, I've been hear for about a year," the man sighed. 

"I am Athos and this is Aramis," Athos whispered. Someone barked at them to stop talking, and they were put to work. That day was grueling, the overseer would ride by every hour or so and give them a flick of the whip to keep them moving. The sun beat down on them, hotter than even the hottest summer day in Paris, and Athos was glad for the cool dirt between his toes. Water was scarce, them only getting a ladle-ful from the bucket four or five times, and then a hunk of bread twice. The cane was backbreaking work. At first, they had been in terror of the fires, but then realized that they only burned away the leaves, leaving the stalk to be cut. The smoke was choking, but it soon dissipated and left them to work. They bent over and cut the stalk close to the ground to bind it into sheaves, only to bring them to a small cart that was taken to the mill. Henri was as good a friend as they could wish for, telling them about each of the overseers and how to cut the cane. When they were finally called to a halt, they were led off to a small building. It was lined with rickety cots, and Henri led them to one. Athos looked at him curiously.

"I've seen you two with one another, and I don't care, don't matter here. We got lots of men who are lovers," he sighed, "Just keep your heads down, and you'll do well here." With a sigh, Athos crawled beneath the flea-bitten blanket and felt Aramis curl up beside him. A head came to rest on his shoulder, and a hand petted his abused hair. 

"We'll be alright," Aramis whispered, "Porthos will come."

"How can you be sure of that? He's probably turning Paris upside-down by now," Athos replied. 

"He'll find us, we have to keep faith. Those lights in the sky, Porthos is seeing them now just as we are. We must have faith that they will guide him to us," Aramis whispered. Athos did not sleep that night, neither did Aramis. They gazed at the stars, wondering if Porthos was gazing at the same ones as they were. 

\---

Three months, three bloody months his lovers had been in the hands of those monsters. They'd lost the trail, and they'd gotten lost in a storm, taking two weeks to repair the ships at an island port, and another two weeks to track the bastards down. His loves had been at this farm a month, in the hands of Bonnaire's associates. Finally, they saw the dock and the ship that the slavers were known to use. Following the plan they'd dreamt up the night before, they awaited the fall of night, and the beginning of their revenge. 

\---

"No!" Aramis cried as he dove in front of Athos. A fever had begun to ravage the slaves, and Athos had been stricken the night before. They'd all been shoved out to work, fever or not, and Athos' thin frame shook with tremors and sweat. The overseer had not been pleased at his apparent incompetence. Aramis dove forward before the man could lash out his whip again. The overseer raised an eyebrow at him. 

"Move," he commanded. Aramis dug his heels into the ground. "I said!" he barked as he used the whip for emphasis, "Move!" Aramis grunted, but did not move. 

"Aramis," came the quiet whisper from Athos below him. Another overseer came galloping up, and they advanced on Aramis. Soon, he and Athos were both on the ground, hands bound behind their backs. They were dragged off to the posts, and they were tied with their backs to the overseer. Footsteps were heard gathering, and Aramis tensed. 

"These two have seen fit to disobey orders and laze about!" the overseer thundered, "This cannot and shall not continue! As such, an example must be made! One hundred lashes each, with a night at the post!" Murmurs were heard amongst the laborers, and Aramis felt a tear slip down his cheek. He did not cry out as the first lash came down. After ten, his mind became a blur of pain and wetness down his back. When he thought it could not get any worse, water crashed into his back, tasting of salt. He screamed. Hands grasped his shoulders roughly, and he was freed and turned around. He cried out as the wood was set against his back. Ropes were encircled around his chest, and his hands were bound behind him once more. His mouth was filled with blood, and Aramis realized that he must have bitten his lip to stay silent. Terror filling his heart, he looked over to see Athos slumped against his ropes, his breathing ragged and his face pale, even if this month had turned his skin to a red color. With sympathetic looks and whispered encouragement, the slaves returned to work. The day was brutal, the blood dried up in Aramis' mouth, and his skin began to burn. The wood dug into his wounds, and Athos would not waken. Evening was a godsend, and Aramis murmured thanks to God as he drifted to sleep. He woke with a jolt as a hand clapped over his mouth. He thrashed and gave a muffled moan, but the hand only tightened slightly. A hand came to run through his hair, and Aramis finally registered the whispered nothings that were drifting over him. 

"Shh, shh, easy 'Mis, easy!" the voice hissed, "I'm gonna cut you and Athos down, but ya have to be quiet!" Aramis' eyes fluttered open at the familiar voice, and his wiggling stopped. With a smile, Porthos ran a comforting hand through his hair and eased his hand off of Aramis' mouth. Aramis wanted to beg for the wondrous flask that hung from Porthos' belt, but his mouth was so dry that he couldn't even do that. Whispering soothing nothings as he dispatched the bonds, Porthos eased him up and handed him to a man that was standing nearby. 

"Ferdinand is gonna take you back to the ship, I'll be along with Athos as soon as I get 'im down," Porthos whispered. Aramis then noticed the dead guards and the men sneaking about. Who in heaven's name did Porthos come with?! He wanted to ask, but all that came out of his mouth was a squeaky croak, and Porthos was already kneeling down in front of Athos, subjecting him to the same treatment. Aramis was filled with joy as two panicked blue eyes flew open and registered their lover. Ferdinand, whoever the hell he was, draped an arm across his waist and shoulder under Aramis' arm. Aramis gave a moan of pain, but Ferdinand eased the pressure as much as he could. Every step was agony, and it seemed to take hours for them to make it to the ship, Porthos caught up to them soon, an asleep Athos cradled in his arms. 

"Come on, we've gotta get to the ship, Athos is burnin' up, and 'Mis don't look much better," Porthos sighed at Ferdinand as the ship came into view. When they finally got onto the deck, Ferdinand slowly lowered Aramis to the ground, and there he slept. 

His dreams were a confusing blur; Athos thrashing on a bed beside him, Porthos speaking frantically to him, being  _so_ hot and sick, Porthos sitting by him with his head in his hands, Porthos apologizing as he was lowered into a bath, and then there was murky darkness. When he finally blinked his eyes open, he was confused. There was the crashing of waves against wood, and there was a muted light. He was lying on a wonderfully soft bed, a thick blanket tucked all the way up to his chin. He licked his dry lips and looked up at the ceiling, which was wooden. To his left was a warm presence, and he was astonished to see a sleeping Athos, clad in a soft shirt and his face settled into that peaceful bliss of sleep. He looked to his right, and saw that their bed was strange indeed. There were two doors on it, like a cupboard, and it seemed as if they were almost in a box. However, the bed was not the most interesting thing in the room. A hammock was slung from the ceiling, and in it, the form of Porthos was slumbering away. Aramis smiled slightly and looked around the room. It seemed as if they were in a ship's cabin of some sort, the grey light of dawn just barely breaking over the horizon. On a table by their bed was a wooden pitcher and glass, and Aramis stretched out a hand towards it. His hand was shaking, and he felt as weak as a kitten. How long had he been asleep?! He finally was able to grasp the pitcher, but a pitch in the ship sent it crashing to the ground, Aramis' hopes for a taste of relief gone with it. Porthos woke with a startled snuffle, and immediately looked around the room. "Who's there?" he demanded. Aramis tried to speak up, and all that came out was a squeaky mewl that made him cringe inwardly. Porthos turned slowly towards him, his face the absolute picture of astonishment, and dove for him. Tears flooded his eyes, and he ran a hand through Aramis' short hair. "Easy, easy, I'm here. It's so good to see you my love!" Porthos said, tears flooding his voice. With a look to the ground, he saw the discarded pitcher and immediately sighed. "I'm a fool, of course ya must be parched! You wait here with Athos, I'll be right back, 'ave to draw some more water and let someone know you're up!" Porthos said quickly. With that, Aramis was left alone in the bed-thing with a slumbering Athos. Porthos was back soon with a new pitcher and a steaming bowl, along with a cup of something. "Alright now, before ya go gettin' any fancy ideas, not too fast. You've been asleep for a month, so no gulpin' down barrels of water," he warned as he adjusted Aramis' pillows to lift him up. The cup was brought to his lips, and Aramis sipped, though he wanted desperately to gulp it down. When the water was done, there was a hearty broth and a full cup of tea that tasted of herbs. His eyes were suddenly heavy, and he looked at Porthos accusingly. Porthos smiled sheepishly, and he eased Aramis down. "Now don't go lookin' at me that way, you'll be up soon enough and then we'll talk," he scolded lightly. With a satisfied nod, Aramis drifted back to sleep with Porthos humming in the background. When he awoke next, it was to Porthos cleaning his pistol and his sword. He smiled brightly as Aramis blinked his eyes open. "Afternoon my love!" he said brightly. After plying Aramis with what seemed to gallons of tea and broth, he turned him onto his belly and lifted his shirt. As he poked at Aramis' back, Aramis looked at him inquiringly. "You wanna know why you were asleep so long?" Porthos asked. Aramis nodded. "Well, we got you an' Athos here and saw that the scars got infected. Athos still had his fever, and you caught it from 'im about three days later. Considerin' how weak ya both were to start, we...we thought the worst for a while," Porthos said quietly. 

"Has he been up yet?" Aramis croaked. 

"I didn't remember sayin' you were well enough to speak," Porthos sighed, "But no, Athos ain't graced us with 'is presence. The Spanish, that's who we're with, let us know about you two. Ya should have seen the king, he was downright furious, even yelled at the Cardinal for workin' with Bonnaire! I'm here as a liaison for us, makin' sure all of us who were within France's borders get home." With that, Porthos regaled Aramis with some of his high-sea adventures until he drifted to sleep. Two days later, Aramis and Porthos engaged in an argument as to the fact that Aramis could indeed use the chamber pot by himself, when a small whimper and some shifting drifted their way towards them. All words ceased, and Porthos crawled onto the bed as Athos shifted a little in his sleep. Finally, two dazed, blue eyes fluttered open and looked around the room confusedly. 

"Where?" Athos croaked, but was quickly shushed by Aramis. 

"Easy, easy, Porthos is here, he came," Aramis whispered. Suddenly, the man himself appeared, bearing a glass of water. That night, as Porthos slumbered nearest the doors and Athos lay nestled in the middle, both he and Aramis awake from a long rest, he looked towards his lover. 

"You were right," he said, a slight rasp still in his voice. 

"Hmm?" Aramis asked in a slight confusion. 

"He followed the lights," Athos whispered. And with those lights flickering through the window and casting their large lover in a dappled glow, Aramis had to agree with him. 

**Author's Note:**

> The depiction of the harvesting of sugar cane is as accurate as I could make it. Normally, the leaves fall off before harvest, but the stalks are still burned to make sure. Doing the harvesting by hand is grueling work, today, machines are mostly used to harvest the crops. Thank you for reading and feel free to let me know what you thought!


End file.
